


Muzzled Memory

by thelittlestpurplecat



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Biting, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Muzzle Kink, Muzzles, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Power Imbalance, Rimming, Skinny!Steve, Spit As Lube, Steve Never Became Captain America, Top!Bucky, Winter Soldier!Bucky, bottom!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:03:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4617729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestpurplecat/pseuds/thelittlestpurplecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He doesn't know why he's here.</i><br/><br/>The Solider doesn't know why he's drawn to the broken, run down tenement building, or why frail, trembling blond he has pinned to the living room wall, stirs something aching, and desperate inside him. It stirred a shiver deep in his bones, and dragged the aborted memories of tender nights spent under the smoggy city lights to the surface of his mind. It dredged up thoughts of kissing soft pink lips, and whispering endearments into pale gold hair.<br/>But his voice brought memories that tore wounds in the Assets mind- that brought pain, and confusion, and fear- like broken glass being ground into his skin.<br/><br/>It was too much. It was too much-<br/><br/>So the Soldier takes off the mask, and puts it on <i>Steve.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Muzzled Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the wait, but the fic I promised my followers a week ago is finally ready. Consider it a parting gift before I go to school. 
> 
> Just a quick note though- this work _does_ have some dubcon, considering Bucky's extremely unbalanced, and aggressive, and lost, and Steve is outright terrified, and confused. Before they feel each other out there is some non consensual touching, and a couple moments where Steve is actively trying to push Bucky away. But when it comes down to it, Steve _does_ give his consent, and Bucky respects it. Just bear that in mind when you enjoy this fic. :)

_He didn’t know why he was here._ **  
**

The run down tenement building loomed over the Soldier’s leather-clad figure; bleak, and colorless. It was the home of those just barely clinging to the line above total and complete poverty. It was a hopeless place; a gray, ramshackled waiting room for pennilessness. The people who crammed themselves into theses dank, narrow suits had no hope of dragging themselves to something better. But really, they were all just waiting for the depression to swallow them like it had swallowed everything else.

_So why was he here? What was it about this place that tugged at the Asset’s tattered soul?_

_He remembered._

The Asset’s footsteps creaked softly over the slats of the worn wooden stairs, his gloved fingers brushing over the dusty, crumbling brick to his right. He _knew_ this place; this place that smelled of hot city air, cooling bread, and unwashed clothes. He knew the groan of the wood beneath his feet, but he didn’t know why his feet had carried him here. He knew that the brick beside his right boot concealed a tarnished key….

The soldier stooped, the hand that had killed dozens of men turning the brick, and lifting the dull strip of jagged metal. His mouth was dry, and the Asset felt an unfamiliar tug in the pit of his stomach. This body was responding to the situation in ways it shouldn’t. The response was...emotional… _.unwarranted,_ and the Asset crushed it out in favor of cold, professional interest...or at least, that was the story he told himself. His handlers would want to know why he strayed from his course after a kill, and he should be prepared to furnish them with an answer. _That was it-_ he convinced himself as he slipped the key into its niche in the lock. _That was all._

But as the door slid open, the tug in the core of the Asset’s body morphed into a merciless wrench, crippling his logic, and his gloved hand clapped hard around the doorframe, his chest constricting as he stared into the little apartment. He needed to maintain control- but the dark outline of the furniture sparked a flare of familiarity. He needed to punish himself for straying- but there was a lingering scent of cooked food, and weak coffee that yanked at the strings of his heart. He remembered what it was like to sit in these chairs- to perch on the edge of the coffee table- to hang his coat on one of those pegs...He knew what the kitchen looked like without even looking in. There was a bedroom down the slanted hall...there was a bathroom, with a stained tub and a sink with a chip. _..How did he know? Why did he remember a life when he had none of his own?_

A half second, and a creaking floorboard was all the warning the Soldier had.

_He should have looked in the kitchen._

The Asset wheeled around, his left arm coming up to block the assault and was met with a ringing _clang,_ and the shock of metal on metal. He lunged blindly, whipping his arm across in retaliation and striking soft flesh. A pitching cry split the silence of the night. A kitchen tile cracked as the heavy cast iron pan that had been swung at him hit the floor, and it wielder dropped back with a _thud._ Instantly, the Asset straddled his attacker, powerful thighs pinning him down as he grabbed the slender throat, and squeezed. He felt the skin bruising, felt the convulsion of a gasp, his victim struggling for one more breath, before the adrenalin passed, and the Asset could truly see the life he was crushing out.

A young man, only just an adult-

He was slight, and frail, the Asset’s hand circling the entirety of his throat with ease. Dirty blond hair clung to the sheen of sweat on his forehead, tousling over his brow, and sticking to his sharp, sunken cheeks. The young man’s blue eyes were fixed on his masked face, wide with shock, and horror- a blind, sickening terror in his eyes that prickled through the Asset’s body. And suddenly he knew one thing with utter clarity.

_He knew him._

Just as the young man’s eyes were going dull, and glassy, the Soldier released his throat, rolling back on the balls of his feel and dragging the limp figure up with him. He gripped the thin undershirt that covered his victim's boney chest and hauled him against him, manipulating the tiny body with ease and pinning him roughly against the wall. The Soldier pressed in, his body pinning the young man, flush. His gloved right hand kept his limp head upright with light pressure on his throat, but his left moved up slower, cautiously dragging through his sweaty blond bangs. Something in the pit of his stomach curled with curiosity, drowning out the wail of his programing that screamed and thrashed in his mind- hissing that he would be punished. But the curiosity won out. The Asset pushed the slick blond hair out of his victim’s eyes, his left hand dragging slowly over the body that stirred such a strange sense of familiarity inside him. His hand slid over the narrow, bony chest that still heaved in and out, gasping desperately for the air that had been deprived of him. The Soldier touched over his arms, and stomach, his fingertips tingling as he brushed slowly down over the protruding hip-bones.

The slender young man shuddered sickly, his body twitching slightly as his eyelids fluttered open, gaze fixing blearily on his attacker. “G-Get- _Get off_ -” The sound barely managed to escape his bruised throat, his frail body squirming weakly against the intruder’s. The Soldier could see the nausea rising in his throat, the sick horror written all over his gaunt face as he was attacked in his own home, pinned helplessly to the wall and touched by a masked stranger. He could see his panic mounting as his senses returned to him. A clarity sparked through his eyes, and he suddenly bucked against the Soldier, twisting and squirming violently. “Get off! GET OFF ME! _GET THE FUCK OFF!”_

Something nearing panic abruptly raked at the Asset’s heart, and he jerked his hand back, abruptly reached forward and grabbing his jaw. His palm clamped over the young man’s mouth, but he didn’t stop. He screamed against the gloved hand, teeth catching at the leather, pinching the palm of his hand. His frail limbs jabbed, and flailed, pushing desperately to free himself from the intruder’s grip. One, fragile arm wrenched free from the pressure, and suddenly the Asset saw curled, bony fingers raking towards his eyes.

He jerked his head away so fast something pulled in his neck, and it still wasn’t _quite_ enough to dodge the violent, terrified, man’s clawing strike. His sharp nails dragged down Bucky’s cheeks on either side of his nose, hooking into his mask- _and yanking it free._

The muzzle dragged roughly over the bridge of his nose and slid down, hanging around his neck from the leather strap that normally kept it in place, and the young man frozen. For a second, the hot, humid apartment was dead silent. He’d stopped struggling against him. His hands hung loosely at his sides, and suddenly, those soft, pink lips parted in a ragged choke of disbelief.

_“Bucky?”_

The word broke halfway through, and the Asset felt something twist in his chest. The young man’s face had gone white, his mouth dropped open, his eyes suddenly bright with moisture.

“Bucky-” He whispered again, this time not a question, and his hand moved, coming back towards his face and the Asset grabbed it. He startled, and the Soldier pinned his wrist roughly to the wall the smaller man choking out a gasp of pain, his eyes flashing to his captive wrist, and then back to the Soldier’s exposed face. “Bucky... _Bucky it’s me_ …” He breathed shakily, and the Asset could feel his heart slamming against that delicate shell of a ribcage, even through the layers of their clothing. “It’s me…” He pleaded softly, _“It’s Steve…”_

_Steve._

The Soldier faltered, his chest constricting with recognition, and confusion, and fear. _Why did that name mean something to him?_ Why did he want to take that name and taste it on his lips. And the other name... _Bucky_...why did he want to taste _that_ on _Steve’s?_

“I thought you were dead-”

No amount of instruction or briefing could have prepared the Asset for the anguish in Steve’s voice. The few, broken words were spoken so bleakly in made his chest ache. Each syllable seemed to viciously rip bleeding gashes into Steve’s heart, and his cheeks were suddenly wet as he tried to choke out another string of biting words.  “They told me you were dead, Buck-” He rasped shakily, and the Asset suddenly found him trembling against him, helpless shudders wracking his tiny frame. “They said you fell- said- said you were gone- I- _Oh god_ -” A sob hitched in Steve fragile chest as tears ran down his chin and neck. “ _I thought you were dead-”_

This was too much-

The Asset’s curiosity had dragged him, screaming, and clawing into a nightmare he couldn’t wake from, because something in him _remembered_ the blond’s words. His mind was suddenly churning with the shrapnel of a thousand memories and it was tearing his insides apart. Every word out of Steve’s mouth felt like broken glass being ground into his skin- _He wanted it to stop-_

He wanted it to stop- And he could _make it_ stop. One twist of his hand would _snap_ the fragile neck. One twist would silence the words that burned his mind like a white-hot iron. But the Soldier didn’t want to kill him-

_He just wanted Steve-_

“Stop-” The plea was low; broken, and ragged, and Steve abruptly froze, his mouth faltering as the words died in his throat. He could feel the hand around his throat tightening- a warning- or maybe just a side effect of his tortured plea. He drew a hitching breath, his red eyes snapping up to the Asset’s anguished face.

 _“Bucky-”_ He whispered, but the pressure on his windpipe increased, and Steve choked off into silence.

 _“Stop!”_ It was a snarl now, and the Asset grabbed Steve’s face in one, strong hand, his palm crushing his mouth closed, his fingertips digging into his cheeks as he dragged in a panicked breath. The Asset leaned forward, his heart slamming in his chest, his blood racing- _too hot- too fast._ He turned his head, rough, wiry stubble scraping along Steve’s cheeks as he dragged his mouth back to the younger man’s ear. _“Stop…”_ He breathed brokenly, his chest heaving, the smaller figure trembling against him. This man- Steve- _whoever he was_ \- was two faces of a coin. The feeling of his skin against his soothed the ache in his chest, and his scent stirred feelings of a life that didn’t belong to the Asset. His breath was warm, and comforting against his hand, and the fragile flutter of his heart against his worked to undo years of torture and abuse.

But his voice brought memories that tore wounds in the Assets mind- that brought pain, and confusion, and fear. He wanted him- _god-_  he _needed_ to touch him- to _feel_ him- but his voice was too much...it was too much for the Asset to take…

 _But he needed him like he’d never needed anything else before_.

Curiosity pressed to Soldier on, because every touch broke down the barriers in his mind for something else to slip though. Something deep inside his twisted disaster of his psyche remembered Steve- something in him remembered touching him, feeling his body under his hands, and intrigue dragged him deeper, and deeper into the developing obsession with the fragile young man. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of him, until everything felt familiar. He wanted to drag his mouth over the pale skin, leaving little marks and bruises like his shattered mind remembered doing in the past. Slowly, still keeping Steve’s mouth clamped shut with his right hand, the Asset released his throat, and Steve’s hand reached up, gripping shakily at the Asset’s forearm, almost as though to try and tug his hand away from his mouth. But there was no force behind the grip, and Steve watched - _a frightened observer_ \- as Bucky’s left hand moved to his body, and slid slowly down his chest. His finger’s dragged lower, feeling the knob of his hipbone -so close under his skin- even through the thin fabric of his undershirt. For the first time, the Asset recognized the difference between their states. He was fully armed; dressed in leather tactical gear, and armed to the teeth. Steve was in his undershirt, and a pair of thin boxers; _utterly exposed,_ his feet bare against the wood floor. He was so soft...so _vulnerable…_

The Soldier’s gloved fingers dragged slowly down the thin undershirt, his eyes transfixed as he brushed over the seam, lifting just a hair, just enough to see a pale sliver of white skin between the layers of fabric. And after a hesitant second, the Asset haltingly slid his hand up the front of the frail young man’s shirt.

The touch did something to the Soldier. It stirred a shiver deep in his bones. It heated the blood that raced through his veins, and pushed his heart faster. It dragged the aborted memories of tender nights spent under the smoggy lights of the city to the surface of his mind. It dredged up thoughts of kissing soft pink lips, and whispering endearments into pale gold hair.

_It did something to Steve too._

A ragged whimper pushed past the gag of Bucky’s gloved hand, and fresh tears spilled across the leather, and suddenly the heat in the Soldier’s blood burned out. Steve was crying, whimpering, and _sobbing_ at the touch, and it turned the Asset’s chest to lead. _It shouldn’t matter._ But it _did._ A mark’s tears had never stopped him from pulling a trigger, but _Steve’s_ stopped the Asset’s touch cold.

His hand froze in the middle of his chest, and slowly, almost fearing what he’d hear when he did- the Soldier slid his hand from Steve’s mouth, and the younger man let out a ragged gasp, his fingers tightening over his forearm.

 _“Bucky-”_ The sound of his voice was almost enough the make the Asset clamp back down over his mouth, but he set his teeth, his head already throbbing from the pain the shattered memories brought. “Bucky what’s _wrong_ with you- _what the hell happened?_ Just- _talk to me-_ tell me-” His words choked off in his throat as the Asset broke, his hand coming up over Steve’s mouth again, but it was different this time; lighter- less certain. Steve could still speak through the fingers folded over his lips, but the Assets face was drawn with agony, and desperation, and Steve felt his heart shift. He was _scared._ He was _terrified,_ and confused, but this was _Bucky-_ and he was just as frightened, and lost as he was…

“Please-” The Soldier managed, his thumb dragging over the plush, damp swell of Steve’s lower lip. “Please- just _don’t-_ _It hurts_ …” He rasped, his voice dropping to a ragged murmur, and Steve’s eyes widened, the whites glinting in the near darkness. Suddenly, understanding seemed to settle in Steve’s mind. He didn’t know why, but his voice was too much- like a sensory overload- it hurt Bucky, but _the touch_ \- the touch felt right, and despite all his fear and confusion, Steve had ached for Bucky’s touch since the day he’d lost him.

He’d just never thought it would be like _this._

He never thought Bucky would be so aggressive. _So lost._

_He never thought he’d ever be afraid._

But it was still Bucky. It was still Bucky, and Steve loved him- and _wanted_ him. He wanted to help him, and the touch seemed to do that, even though his words brought only pain. So Steve cautiously released the Asset’s forearm, and gave a tiny, shaky nod.

Slowly, his eyes now bright with caution, the Asset began to move again, his hand gently exploring Steve’s skin. He watched in fascination as color rushed to Steve’s cheeks, the flush creeping down his neck and collar, and he pushed the shirt higher, seeing the way the warm blood colored his chest as well. Moving carefully, the Asset coaxed the shirt off over Steve’s head, and Steve complied with a raw sigh. Their emotions were mutually twisted, and confused. It was a knot of fear, and hurt, and lust and yearning, that drew the two lost men together, and coaxed the Asset’s hands onto the fragile young man’s body, but Steve pressed into the touch, squirming to free his arms of the light material.

The blush had spread all the way out across Steve’s chest now, and he stood -pinned- against the wall, breathing heavily as the stranger that wore his lover’s face traced his ribs and hips. He let his eyes close, his mouth going slack as he heard the slid of leather, the Soldier’s right glove dropping to the wooden floorboards. Hot flesh dragged over his chest, calluses catching on his soft skin as the Asset’s bare fingers drew patterns over his body. And suddenly, the soldier thumbed over Steve’s nipple and the tiny man jolted, his eyes flashing open with a gasp. The Asset held him firmly against the wall, his expression written with cautious curiosity as the tip of his finger traced in a feather light circle around the hardened nub of Steve’s right nipple. He traced over it, rubbing gently before shifting his hand and rolling the stiff peak between his thumb and forefinger, feeling it stiffen, and peek at the touch. Steve gasped aloud, his spine involuntarily arching, his fingers digging into the Asset’s arm as a cry formed on his lips.

_“Bucky!”_

The Soldier flinched and Steve dropped his head forward, shaking, clinging to him. “Bucky…” He whispered breathlessly, blinking rapidly. “ _God- oh god_ Bucky-...touch me- touch me, please- _please_ Bucky-”  

 _“Don’t-”_ The Soldier hissed, his jaw locking as Steve’s words cut into his mind like shards of broken glass. “Don’t... _say anything...don’t talk…”_

Steve’s eyes snapped up, hurt, and confused, because he didn’t understand _anything._ He didn’t understand how Bucky was alive. Or why he’d lashed out, threatening to choke the life from his body. He didn’t know why the love of his life didn’t seem to know him, or why his words made him flinch. Steve swallowed hard, a shiver running up his spine as he reached up, cautiously brushing his fingers along his muscular shoulder and up to his neck.

The Soldier froze, his blood going cold as the frail man touched him with such gentle tenderness. He felt his throat close, his hands stilling on his body as Steve traced his jaw, and cheek, brushing softly... _lovingly_. His opposite hand came up to card through the overlong hair, scrapping it out of his eyes as his fingernails dragged over his scalp.  _“It’s okay Bucky…_ ” Steve breathed, stroking his face in the hot, intimate darkness. “It’s okay.. _.I’m right here.._.I’m right here, I’ve got you Buck...I’ve got you.. _.I love you…”_

_He wanted it to stop._

The Asset snapped out of his frozen shell, desperation making him reckless, and panicked as his hand whipped up, grabbing Steve’s face with controlled pressure, his hands shaking, his body crushing in close. _“No-”_ He hissed through his teeth, gripping Steve’s waist with his left hand, his bare right clamped over his mouth. “No- no _stop it-_ You’re not-” He dragged in a ragged breath, his eyes lit with pain, and panic, and madness. “ _Don’t talk to me-”_

Steve flinched under the threat of violence, his stomach swooping, when something changed in the Soldier’s touch. His grip eased. The insanity wavered, and then faded from his eyes to be replaced with something else, something far more complex; something that made Steve’s nerves prickle with sick anticipation. A kind of morbid curiosity ignited in the Asset’s eyes, curiosity mixed with a challenge; a need for the control that had been stripped from him.

_“You’re not allowed to talk…”_

Steve heard the words in the voice of the man he’d loved his whole life, deep, and low, and smooth, but there was none of the assurance it used to carry. This wasn’t the Bucky he remembered, and suddenly, Steve wasn’t _at all_ sure he wouldn’t hurt him.

In one smooth, powerful movement, the Asset reached behind his neck, unbuckling the leather strap that held the muzzle -still hanging- around his neck. The sleek piece slipped into his hand and suddenly, _Steve felt it smothering over his mouth and nose._

Panic shocked through his system and Steve lurched, suddenly fighting against Bucky, his lungs growing tight. He struck with sharp elbows and knees, but Bucky pinned him as easily as a ragdoll even as he _thrashed_ and _screaming_ in his arms. His fingers fed the strap through the buckle, and Steve felt the muzzle draw tight around his face, and suddenly the pressure of Bucky’s hands eased.

Steve tried to fight for air, his mind whirling with terror, when his lungs expanded, taking in a huge, unimpeded breath. He blinked, _startled,_ letting out the breath and taking another. He could feel the slight draft of his own air passing through thin slits in the muzzle despite how tight it was drawn around his mouth. Steve’s eyelids fluttered, before his gaze snapped up to Bucky’s eyes wide, fear still tingling along every nerve in his body. The Asset was just staring at him though, his face so hauntingly reminiscent of the warm, laughing boy that had been taken by the war, but when he reached towards Steve face, Steve couldn’t help but flinch.

He was _afraid._

He was _afraid_ of this person who’d taken his Bucky’s place.

_He was terrified…_

But the Asset’s hand settled softly along his muzzled jaw, the morbid glint fading from his eyes as he brushed softly over the apples of Steve’s cheek. It was a replication; a _mimic_ of the touch Steve had offered him earlier...it was the only affection the Soldier had ever felt, so it was the only affection he knew how to give. But slowly, something seemed to peak through the fog. It was an abstract memory, without sound, or sight, or smell, but something deep inside his body remembered what his mind couldn’t. His right hand turned slightly, carding through Steve’s soaked blond sheaves. His hair was drenched with sweat, and Steve trembled under his hands as he gently stroked his hair, his gloved, left hand moving up to stroke Steve’s temples.

He eased in, _closer...closer,_ his tactical gear pressing against Steve’s fragile, boney chest; leather to skin. His wet mouth grazed along Steve’s cheek, coming to rest right against the flushed shell of his ear. _“Shake your head.”_ The Asset whispered, and he heard a quavering whimper muffled against the inside on the mask. Steve’s head jerked in a tiny shake, and the Asset curiously nipped the lobe of his ear- just lightly, just enough for Steve to feel. “Good…” He murmured, almost surprised to hear the word coming out of his mouth. It was... _unnecessary_...but he’d felt compelled to...to what? _To praise him?_

The Soldier glazed over the breech in his operations, and turned his mouth in, breathing directly into Steve’s ear. _“Nod…”_

Suddenly, Steve felt the freezing terror crack. His brow drew slightly, something tugged at the pit of his stomach, some inkling of understanding stirring in his mind. He gave his head the tiniest nod, and the Soldier let out a low breath, his air hot on his neck as he eased in. His hips pushed, flush, against Steve, and his strong, sturdy arms encircled him, drawing him close, hands tracing the length of his spine. Steve felt his air brush over the vulnerable skin of his throat, and suddenly his mouth was on him. Steve blinked rapidly, his heart skipping a beat as he felt the familiar shape of Bucky’s lips against his throat- _kissing- sucking- nibbling_ lightly along his pale flesh as his fingers dragged over his back and ribs. It- It felt good- it felt like _Bucky-_ and Steve felt his eyes sting with tears, his hands shakily finding the man’s waist.

_Bucky was alive…_

But he wasn’t the same, and Steve couldn’t let go of his fear until he’d put to test the fragile theory that he’d formed in his mind. Steve swallowed hard, and abruptly shook his head.

 _Instantly_ the Asset drew back, and Steve’s eyes widened, his breath escaping him in a ragged gasp of relief. _He’d stopped. He’d listened to him._ The nod, and the shake was the Asset’s way of giving him the choice of his consent. Steve was scared, and confused. He wanted Bucky- _he’d missed him-_ But he’d _needed_ to know that he had an option. He’d needed to know this shadow of his love wasn’t going to force him beyond what he could handle. _It was still dangerous._ Steve was still spinning the barrel of a loaded gun and trusting the odds not to leave him dead on the floor. He was trusting his wellbeing to a tormented creature, so _clearly_ unbalanced- so _utterly_ lost- and _praying_ he wouldn’t be hurt. But it was still Bucky. Somewhere in there, under all the neglect, and abuse, and torture, it was still Bucky- and Steve _desperately_ wanted to belief he could trust him.

Maybe it was a fool’s hope -to really believe he wouldn’t be harmed- but it was a chance Steve was willing to take.

_Because against any odds, Steve would always choose Bucky._

A breath of tension passed between them; a moment of challenge as Steve silently demanded Bucky’s care, and respect, and the Soldier settled the notion that his new found control went only as far as Steve’s. And only once Steve was _absolutely_ certain that the Soldier would respect his consent, did he lift his eyes to those that he’d loved his whole life, and very purposefully nod his head.

For a moment, the Asset seemed uncertain, and then Steve took his hands, and guided them back to his body. He pressed his palms against his protruding ribcage, and the Soldier dragged in a breath like a drowning man given his last taste of air. He pressed in, pinning Steve tenderly, and tucking his face into the curve of his neck, kissing him hungrily as he traced his ribs and hips. The Soldier’s mouth was hot and wet, the kisses all teeth, and hungry pressure, and Steve whimpered behind the mask, pressing into his touch as his hands cautiously found their way back to his stiff nipples. Steve arched into it, breathing heavily behind the mask as the broken shell of his Bucky scraped his teeth over his soft throat, sucking a blotch onto his pale skin. One hand came up, undoing the collar of his leather tactical jacket, his fingers sliding deftly down the front, one strap after another coming undone until it hung open against Bucky’s bare chest.

Steve felt the air leave his lungs.

Bucky’s body pressed against his own; powerful, and more muscular than Steve had ever seen it. What had once been lean and boyish had been sculpted into solid ropes, and cords of muscles. The swell of his pecs pushed flush against his protruding collar bones, and a shiver ran through his body as he felt the distinct outline of Bucky’s cock pressing against his soft stomach. He could feel it’s thickness- it’s _heat_ even through the tactical gear. He could feel his own arousal stirring beneath the flimsy material of his boxers, and Steve felt a sudden thrill run up his crooked spine as the gravity of the moment well and truly sunk in. Steve was suddenly _very_ aware of the situation he was putting himself in.

Bucky was _alive._ He wanted him, but there was still something so very _wrong-_ so very _broken_ inside him, but Steve didn’t care. He was here now, and he was giving himself to Bucky; muzzled, confused, and sorely outmatched, and bleeding prayers from his breaking heart that his Bucky was still in there somewhere. His hands ran over Bucky’s chest, feeling the heavy slam of his heart; the heart Steve _still_ trusted, despite everything else.  

Slowly, Steve’s hands slid over the Soldier’s shoulders pushing the heavy, leather gear back until it coiled to the floor with a _thud,_ and Bucky pressed forward, his left hand grabbing at the small of his back. Steve felt the ice cold prickle of metal against his flesh, and he startled, but what was left of his Bucky didn’t give him time to react. He drew Steve away from the wall, still holding him in his arms, until he backed him aways into the livingroom. And then his hand slid over Steve’s boxers, and grabbed the back of his thigh, squeezing the soft flesh over thin bone. Steve muffled a sound against the inside of the muzzle, but Bucky’s grip tightened, squeezing until his knees buckled, and Steve dropped down at the Soldier’s feet.

The Asset let out a low sound, drinking in the sight of Steve- mostly naked- on his knees at his feet, his eyes wide over the edge of the muzzle. He let his fingers slide through his soft blond hair, stroking lightly over his scalp, brushing his cheeks and ears. Steve could feel the cold metal on his shoulder, and his eyes slid over, half afraid of finding a weapon resting against his skin, but the sight that met his gaze was so much more worse.

Bucky’s left arm- _Gone._ In it’s place a sleek, metal prosthetic, joined to the top of his shoulder in a thick ridge of scarring. It touched his vulnerable skin; _cold,_ and _unforgiving,_ and Steve tried to speak- articulate some of the _millions_ of questions that suddenly raced through his mind. But the mask kept his mouth firmly closed.

Slowly, one hand still anchored in Steve’s hair, the Soldier undid the front of his pants, dragging down the zipper and letting the heavy material slid down his powerful thighs. Hooking his thumb easily into the waistband on his boxers, the Asset drew them down as well, and let them, crumple to the floor.

Steve had barely had time to draw a breath, when the Asset guided his weight down on top of him, and pinned his tiny figure to the floor.

Even the mask couldn’t muzzle Steve’s pitching gasp. It was caught between surprise, shock, and almost _embarrassing_ arousal, 'cause _fuck-_ Bucky’s massive thighs straddled either side of his tiny hips, his full, thick cock resting right against his bare stomach, already wet with precome. A warm droplet of milky fluid leaked on to his hot skin, setting like a jewel against his hipbone, and Steve shivered, panting heavily through the mask. A suggestion of fear still fluttered in the shadows of Steve’s mind, but it had faded to background noise. His body was racing with arousal, and desperation, and lust. His stomach with hot with a need to feel more of that powerful body against his, and if the look in the Soldier’s eyes was anything to go by, the same lust burnt through him.

He leaned forward, silent, and curious, not sure if he knew the body under him by heart, or if it was the first time he’d laid eyes on something so beautiful. He reached out, dragging his hand over Steve’s chest, sliding his palm over his ribs as he leaned further over him. He pressed into Steve’s space, and Steve drew in a ragged breath as he scraped his teeth over his throat; feral, and seductive, his hands gripping his waist. Slowly, the mismatched hot and cold of Bucky’s hands found their way to Steve’s ass, gripping, and digging curiously, before sliding under the material, tugging a muffled choke from Steve.

He could feel the only scrap of fabric separating them slowly dragging lower down his hips. The man on top of him rocked against him, bare cock rubbing against Steve's stomach as his boxers slid- lower- _lower._

The Asset shoved them down around Steve’s ankles, and suddenly, Steve felt his body being manipulated like a toy as the Soldier shifted his weight, and pulled Steve’s legs up, curling the smaller man’s spine as he pulled his scrawny calves up over his shoulders, his hips flush against his ass.

 _“Show me.”_ He whispered, low, and thick, and Steve’s eyes snapped up to his, his heart in his throat. The Soldier waited, cold, blue eyes locked on Steve, body still despite how easy it would be to press his advantage.

Steve swallowed back the knot in his throat, and slowly nodded.

The Soldier’s eyes flashed, and Steve felt a thrill run up his spine as he reached around Steve’s scrawny leg and curled his first two fingers into his mouth, slicking them thoroughly before sliding his palm slowly down between Steve’s legs. Steve was too helplessly aroused to even _consider_ pressing for a better kind of lubricant. _They’d done this before. Steve trusted him._

Steve felt the hot, wetness of Bucky’s saliva slicked across his fingers as they brushed down over his balls, brushing lightly over the quivering knot of muscle between the lobes of his ass. The Soldier’s eyes flickered up, resting on his face for just a moment -making certain Steve hadn’t started shaking his head- before his gaze dropped back down, and he pressed the tip of one finger against Steve’s ass. The digit slipped into Steve’s tight heat with a wet _squelch,_ the smaller man gasping behind the muzzle, his eyes screwing closed. He’d forgotten what it felt like- to feel someone reaching inside him- touching the most intimate parts of his body. He forgot what it felt like to feel his Bucky’s fingers curling, and stroking and pressing at the inner walls of his body.

Taking the little gasp as encouragement, the Asset pressed deeper, working a second finger into him, staring with wide eyed lust and curiosity at the tiny man below him. Steve was flushed all the way down his chest. His ribs were heaving with ragged pants, and his fingernails scratched across the wood floor, desperately scrambling for something to anchor him. The Soldier slid his fingers deeper, drawing a whine from Steve as the wide knuckles pressed past his tender rim, stretched the delicate muscle; preparing him for the thickness of his cock. He wanted to feel Steve shivering underneath of him, his body tight, and hot, and wet around his shaft. He wanted to feel him open up for him- take him; silent, and desperate. Because Bucky remembered what the Soldier didn’t- what it felt like to love Steve, to hold him, kiss him, and immerse himself in the soothing, rich depth of his voice. But Bucky was deeply buried. HYDRA had tried to choke the life out of him, but the best they’d been able to do was hide him away; lock him under layers of torture, and programing- orders, and pain. But the more the _Soldier_ touched Steve, the closer _Bucky_ came to the surface.

Sweat, and saliva squelched out of the point where the Soldier’s fingers were taken inside Steve’s hot greedy body; three of them now, Steve’s rim stretched white, and bloodless around them. Steve’s thighs trembled over the Asset’s shoulders, and he turned his head, biting softly at the tender flesh. His stubble dragged along the pale white skin, leaving a flush of pink it’s its wake, the Soldier’s teeth scraping and nibbling along the vulnerable inside of his thigh. A low hum slipped from his lips, that bizarre, unnecessary, _unprogrammed_ urge to praise the other man pressing at his lips. He kissed higher up, swallowed back ‘ _beautiful_ ’s, ‘ _my Stevie_ ’s; ‘ _My pretty Stevie_ ’s. He mouthed over Steve’s balls, coaxing low gasps, and whimpers from him as he held back his own helpless sighs of pleasure. His tongue brushed over where his fingers disappeared into Steve’s rim, tracing along the stretched muscle. It was reddened, and puffy; obviously tender, but Steve moaned behind the muzzle as Bucky licked gently over his rim.

His tongue traced over the tender skin between his swollen entrance and his balls, and he mouthed over them again, his teeth just grazing the vulnerable flesh before he licked, long, and slow, up the underside of Steve’s shaft. Steve squirmed in pleasure underneath him, his movements restricted by the bend in his spine; the way the Soldier kept his thighs hooked over his shoulder. He gasped, and panted, distracted from the burn of Bucky’s fingers stretching him open by the wet heat of his mouth between his legs.  The Asset drank in his little squirms, and shivers, and muffled gasps and moans. He coaxed them out with licks and nibbles along his shaft, the sound making his heart turn over in his chest.

What was it about Steve that made the Soldier come undone? What was it about him that cracked through the brutality, and efficiency, and heartlessness? What was it that drew out warmth, and affection, and love?

_It terrified the Soldier._

He wasn’t built for affection. He wasn’t programed for love. So why did he feel it burning inside him every time Steve’s narrow chest rattled in and out with gasp of air, and stifled noises of pleasure? Why did every trusting little gasp, and whine tempt him to abandon the only purpose he had, and turn on the people who’d shaped his body and mind?

_He didn’t understand._

_He was scared._

_He wanted Steve._

Slowly, the Asset’s swollen lips slid away from Steve’s shaft; shiny, and wet with excess saliva, and he drew his fingers back, dragging at Steve’s rim until he pulled free, leaving him gaping, and empty. Underneath him, Steve felt a raw surge of desperation. He lifted his head off the floor, eyes wide over the edge of the mask and watched with fascination and lust as Bucky met his gaze with hooded, smokey eyes and licked, wet, and slow up his palm. Steve could feel the desperation building in his body, the burning ache in his untouched cock where it lay, hard, and weeping against his stomach. He _needed_ this- needed it to be _real-_ to _hurt_ so that he could remember it, even if this shadow of his Bucky left him. Steve didn’t think he could stand to wake up the next morning and not feel the sting, and the ache deep inside him proving that it hadn’t all been a dream, that Bucky was alive...that he’d come back to him if only for a night.

The Asset reached down, slicking his cock with the saliva on his palm, smearing the precome that dribbled from his slit along his thick shaft. His eyes were dark, and predatory, staring down at the tiny figure, quivering with need underneath him. He guided himself forward, let the head of his weeping, aching cock rest against Steve’s gaping hole as he shifted forward, the younger man bent almost double underneath him.

“Show me…” He whispered again, his tone thick, and ragged, dripping with desire and lust.

Steve caught his shuddering breath, eyes squeezing closed for just a second before he nodded hurriedly, his body aching, and burning. It felt like the fevers that had taken him as a child, leaving him hot, and dripping with sweat; disoriented, and numb. But Bucky’s hands, though harder now, and calloused, stroked his body the same way they always had. Those hands that he’d thought he’d never feel again came to rest against the outside of his thigh, caressing, and squeezing, sending shivers through his body.

And as the shadow of the smiling boy he’d loved pushed forward, Steve closed his eyes, and gave himself over completely.

The pain came first.

 _Steve felt like his was going to rip in half._ Bucky drove forward, slow, but steady, not stopping _\- deeper- deeper-_ He felt his rim stretching around the thickest part of his cock, burning, and spasming with pain as he stifled a hoarse cry into the inside of the mask. The Asset’s eyes snapped up, his fingers tightening on Steve’s thigh, but Steve nodded raggedly again, his eyes wet, cheeks flushed red over the edge of the mask. He felt so _full-_ so stretched, and dominated. _It hurt-_ it hurt and it was fucking _real._ It was real. Steve just kept telling himself. _It’s real._

Loosening his hold on Steve’s slender thigh, the asset eased deeper, slower now, and the body-tearing pain began mingling seamlessly with an ache of pleasure. Steve’s raw, hoarse cries morphed into whimpers of pleasure as the Asset began to take him on the floor of the apartment, sliding his thick cock in and out of his ravaged hole. He took him as though he’d never touched another person in his life- with curiosity, and years of stifled, pent up frustration, and desire. Steve felt the Asset’s raw need shift to something more like intrigue, and the grip on his thighs eased, the hands dragging down to stroke over his body. Steve let his eyes fall closed. He gave himself up, and dragged in lungfuls of desperation like air. He drank in the feeling of his back scraping across the wooden floorboards, the ache in his spine from having his tiny body bent nearly in half. He savored Bucky’s hands on his body, tucking away the memory of every time he traced over his ribs, saving the memory of even the pain as he pushed into his body.

_He wanted everything._

He wanted all of Bucky’s pain, and confusion, and desperation, and curiosity. He wanted all of his hurt. He wanted him with long hair or short- with one arm or two. He wanted him regardless of what had happened to take him away from him; regardless of whatever had been done to him to make him forget. Steve wanted everything.

With every thrust, Steve’s body relinquished its tension, and the pain ebbed, leaving in it’s wake a burning pleasure; a _heat-_ a _passion-_ the wet slide of skin on skin. The Soldier pressed closer, his overlong hair brushing Steve’s forehead and cheeks, his knobby knees almost touching his chest. He dragged his mouth across Steve’s temple, breathing raggedly as he rolled his hips against Steve’s ass, thrusting deeper, pushing more of his length into his perfect body. His hands slid up, framing Steve’s muzzled jaw, holding his head in place as his lips ghosted over his face, his teeth catching at the apples of his cheeks, his tongue brushing his closed eyelids in a broken approximation of affection he’d never learned how to give.

The Soldier didn’t know how to kiss Steve. He didn’t know how to ask him gently what he wanted, or how to drink in the tones of his lover’s voice. He didn’t know how to whisper the praise and the endearments that flooded his mind- but _god_ he wanted to. But the Soldier wasn’t soft words breathed over warm skin. He was sharp teeth, and gripping hands. He was a muzzle over the mouth that he loved, and he wanted to be different. He wanted _so badly_ to be different. But after so many years of brutalization and torture, the Asset didn’t remember how to love.

_But Steve wanted him anyways._

He held Steve immobile as he fucked him, his pace steady, and ruthless- never a shallow thrust. Each time his hips drove forward against the reddened swell of Steve’s ass, his cock was sheathed completely inside his body, and Steve moaned, and squirmed, arching to take him deeper. He whimpered against the mask, lifted his head off the floor regardless of how it strained his neck, pressing closer to those full, red lips; arching up for the touch of them against his skin. His cheeks and temples and ears were going to be peppered with tiny marks, little nips and bites that the Asset laid against his skin. They would dot his skin like freckles- like the constellations in the night sky, and Steve wanted more, and _more, and more._

He could feel himself trembling violently under Bucky’s powerful figure. He could feel the raw strength of his body every time the wet slap of his thighs against his ass met Steve’s ears. He cock drooled steady drops of precome the ran down the concaved dip of his stomach, and Steve let out a piercing whine. His thighs were shaking. His head was spinning. _He needed more._

The Asset looked down and Steve met his gaze with wide, wet eyes, his gaze ficking desperatly down to where his cock rested against his stomach- throbbing so badly Steve could hardly keep from writhing. The Soldier’s chin tipped slowly down, his forehead pressing against Steve’s but he didn’t break the ragged, desperate stare. His hand tightened on Steve’s jaw, his lips parting, and the Asset _drove_ his cock forward.

White flashed in front of Steve’s eyes, and a raw _scream_ of pleasure wrenched from his throat as energy raced through every nerve in his body.

_Slam_

Another thrust. Steve _writhed,_ muffling cries and gasping out half-formed sounds that never made it past the muzzle around his face. The Soldier’s face had come alive with some deep, skewed sense of satisfaction at the way he could make Steve react, and he snapped his hips forward again, every thrust hitting Steve’s sweet-spot, every thrust dragging him closer and closer to the edge.

Suddenly, Steve curled in on himself, and came with a cry, his cock spurting streaks of white all across his chest, and collarbone, splattering up his neck; a heavy, thick droplet running slowly down over the muzzle. He shuddered violently, his body simultaneously thrumming with energy, and screaming for rest, and he went limp with a ragged sigh.

The Soldier shifted carefully, letting Steve’s aching legs down off his shoulder, letting them rest -instead- around his waist. He took his lover’s limp body in his arms, his tiny chest rising and falling in shuddering gasps as he gathered him against him, his thighs curled powerfully underneath him as he fucked Steve through the crashing and ebbing waves of his orgasm. His movements had slowed now, the snap of his thighs against Steve’s ass morphing into a long, wet grind, as he rolled his body against him, taking him deeply; intimately. His hand slid around to the back of Steve’s neck, gripping the fragile skin as he held his forehead pressed against his, the buckle of the mask pressing into Steve’s flesh.

The Asset let out a shuddering gasp, his body quivering involuntarily as Steve’s body constricted around his length, and he found himself muffling sounds he hadn't known himself capable of making. Whimpers, sighs, breathless moans of pleasure. His strong arms tightened around Steve’s back, sliding through the sweat that beaded on his skin and he pressed his face desperately into Steve’s neck. He clenched his teeth, a pitching moan pushing through the barrier as his hips faltered, and he pushed into Steve with a last, powerful thrust.

The Soldier’s release spilled into Steve’s aching body as his fingers gripped bruises into his birdbone ribs and he pressed a scream against the side of his throat. His cock pulsed inside the tightness of his body, spurting long, thick streaks of hot, white come into Steve. Steve moaned, his head falling back, cheeks scarlet as he felt the warmth of Bucky’s release coating his insides, and he rocked his hips back into it, wrenching an overstimulated moan from the Asset’s lips.

He’d never felt this before. In his limited and broken memory, the Soldier had never felt so _raw,_ so _vulnerable._ He’d never felt so desperate for another persons hands on his body. He’d never wished so badly to be more than a tool to hurt, and kill. He lay on top of the fragile, precious figure _-heaving-_ below him, and knew this was something he’d wanted more than anything else. But it was more than the endorphins, and the pleasure, and the stimulation of his neglected body. It was _Steve._ It was his wheezing little breaths, and the pink in his cheeks. It was the raw, unrestrained love in that voice that had hurt to much for him to bear. And for just a few moments, the Soldier entertained the thought of leaving.

He could abandon the purpose he’d been created to serve. He could turn on his handlers, and never have to kill again. The Asset, shifted his head slightly, looking at Steve’s slack face. His skin was pink over the edge of the mask. His eyes were closed, long, dark lashes fanned out across his cheeks. _He could stay here with Steve_...he could work through the pain, let himself remember what Steve had been too him, and he would have him like this...vulnerable...cradled in his arms, whenever he liked…

And then his handlers would track him down, and they’d take him back, but that wasn’t the worst they would do...they’d take _Steve...they’d_ take Steve, and they’d push him down onto his knees and put a gun to his head. They’d wrench his gaze up by a fistfull of his soft, blond hair and make him look, make the Asset watch as the bullet cracked through his skull, and ripped out the life Bucky loved so much…

_He couldn’t…_

_He couldn’t do that to Steve._

Slowly, the Soldier shifted, his mouth sliding away from Steve’s warmth throat, his cock easing carefully out of his ravaged body. He could hear the muted gasp that escaped his fragile lover, feel the cooling thickness of his come slowly dripping out onto the hardwood floor in his wake. The sweat between their bare chests squelched as he drew back, and Steve’s eyes suddenly snapped open.

Bone thin hands snatched out and grabbed the Asset’s arms. A muffled cry. A flash of wet, blue eyes. He stared up at Bucky, heaving- desperate; clinging to him like he needed him to live. Like Bucky was the breath in his lungs. The uncertain beat of his heart. His hands tightened and he tried to sit up, but the Asset abruptly pressed his hand into the center of his bony chest. “Lie still…” He breathed, keeping his right palm planted on his sternum as his left slid up, and pried Steve’s clutching fingers from his arms. The smaller man whimpered, his eyes bright with tears as the ghost of his love pulled himself away. He tried again to grab him, but the Solider pinned his hands, a warning flashing in his eyes. “ _Lie still.”_ He said again, sharper this time; an order. But the order was laced with something else- with _hurt-_ with _longing._

He pressed his lips together, conflict tearing at the tattered shreds of his souls. But he knew he couldn’t stay. Because if he stayed, it was only a matter of time before his handlers found him. Before they hurt him for disobeying. Before they destroyed the source of his insubordination. He would _already_ be punished, but he could still spare Steve if he left now.. _.if he left now and never came back…_

Bucky eased back, his hand still resting on Steve’s chest -dragging down to his soft stomach- as he cautiously reached back to retrieve his clothing. Once he’d taken the heavy bundle of restraining, controlling gear he shifted forward again, his powerful, naked body poised over Steve’s exhausted, trembling figure. “I’m going to dress…” He breathed carefully, his mouth brushing over the shell of Steve’s ear. “ _Don’t. Move.”_

Steve shivered, his stomach tightening in a knot. _Bucky was leaving._ He was leaving him again, and he was just as lost, and confused as before. But Bucky’s tone was deadly serious, and as he drew away to slip into his gear, Steve compliantly lay on the floor; naked, exposed, _waiting._ He closed his eyes, his throat seeming to clog, his heart aching inside the fragile cage of his chest. He’d lost Bucky for so long, and then there was _this-_ this _one night,_ these few, fearful, _desperate_ moments when he’d come back to him...and then Steve would be alone again, with only the ache in his body to remind him that it had been real. His eyes burned under the closed lids, a broken sounds escaping into the mask as tears began to slip down his cheeks. He shuddered, trying to suppress his tears, trying not to let the broken shell of his Bucky hear the strangled sobs that tried to break from his lips.

He didn’t know how long he’d laid there with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of the floorboards creaking, choking back his own muffled cries. And then suddenly, he felt Bucky’s solid weight ease back down ontop of him, leather-clad thighs framing his bare hips. His lashes fluttered to open, but Bucky’s steely voice against his throat stopped him cold.

“Keep your eyes close.” He murmured. “Don’t move.” For a long moment, that was all he said, and Steve’s breath began to pick up, his heart racing, blood pounding around his body. He could feel the gloves against his skin again. He could feel Bucky’s hands moving slowly up his body. “Steve…” The name slipped from the Asset without his meaning to, and he swallowed hard, but the push of the words against his lips that had been building since the moment he’d touched him had gotten to be too much to restrain. “ _I’m sorry..._ ” He whispered, his voice cracking, his chest tightening with an emotion he couldn’t remember. “I’m sorry I- I don’t wanna hurt you- I don’t know what happened... _I don’t know...who I am…”_ Bucky whispered brokenly, his body suddenly trembling. Steve was crying underneath him. The sparse light that came through the living room window from streetlamps outside lit off the tears that wet his cheeks, and Bucky could feel his tiny chest hitching with restrained sobs. He wanted to _beg_ him- beg him to take him back- to _help_ him- _forgive_ him for the things his hands had done- But he couldn’t ask that of Steve. _He couldn't._ He had to leave him alone, protect him from his handlers.

Steve couldn’t help him. But Bucky could spare Steve.

_He could save him, even if it meant giving him up for good._

_“I’m sorry...”_ He whispered again, knowing his couldn’t stay, but hating himself for it nonetheless. “Don’t move. Don’t open your eyes... _and don’t speak…”_ Slowly, his hands slid around to the back of Steve’s neck, and the smaller man shuddered, his heart in knots of grief, and helpless confusion. The buckle clicked, and carefully, the Asset drew the mask off of Steve’s face.

Steve took in a gasp of air, cold air meeting his skin, and it was everything Steve could do to honor Bucky’s request. He wanted to open his eyes- to stare- to drink him in. He wanted to drag him close and whisper that it would be okay, that he’d help him, that he’d find out what had happen to him and help him remember who he was. But Steve lay still. He lay still, and he didn’t open his eyes, and he didn’t speak.

Bucky swallowed, reaching down, and brushing over Steve’s exposed jaw, and chin, and cheeks. And then, he leaned down, and gave a kind of affection he’d never been taught. Bucky leaned down, and carefully touched his lips to Steve’s.

The kiss was soft; halting, and uncertain. Bucky didn’t remember how to love- how to kiss. But as he touched his mouth to the soft pink lips that would haunt his dreams, it felt _right._

Steve drew in a hitching breath, fresh tears spilling from the crinkled corners of his closed eyes as Bucky kissed him for the first time since he’d lost him, and Steve couldn't choke back the sob that broke from his lips. Bucky stooped closer, holding Steve’s face in both, gloved palms, his throat tight with pain, and grief as he felt Steve shuddering underneath him. Steve kept his eyes closed, and clung to every second he could feel Bucky’s lips against his own. It was stilted, and all too short, but it burned on Steve’s mouth, the way it would burn every time he woke up in a cold sweat from dreams of Bucky being ripped away from him once more.

Slowly, Bucky pulled back, staring down at Steve, who lay below him; _shaking,_ tears running down into his hairline. His hand brushed over his sunken cheeks, his heart in a knot as he caressed his tearstained face. “I’m sorry…” He breathed in a hitching whisper, his thumb brushing just under Steve’s wet lashes.

_And suddenly._

_He was gone._

Steve felt the weight of his lover's body lift from his own, and before he’d hardly had time to open his eyes, he was alone. Steve’s head snapped over, his eyes raking desperately over the dark apartment to catch one last glimpse of him. But the room was still, and dark, looking as empty and soulless as it had since the day Bucky had been taken from him. The door hung open in Bucky’s wake, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He didn’t care that the door was ajar. He didn’t care that anyone could walk by and see him, laying on the floor, _naked,_ dripping with sweat, and marked from Bucky’s hands and teeth. _He couldn’t move._ Steve lay just outside the door of his kitchen, still feeling his lover’s warmth dripping out of him; _and cried._

Steve cried until his throat felt as though it had been stripped with a rusted knife. He cried until his stomach knotted, and he lurched to his knees to vomit on the floor; _shaking,_ and drenched in a sick, freezing sweat. He cried until he could no longer feel the ghosting imprint of Bucky’s hand on his body, and until his aching sobs escaped through the cracked kitchen window, to the ears of the leather clad figure on the street below.

****  
  


**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Imagine the bottom as Skinny Steve, and this is perfect, from the expressions, to Steve's legs over Bucky's shoulders, to the power in Bucky's posture.  
>   
> gifs courtesy of the stevebuckypornlookalikes blog on tumblr.  
>   
> I'd love to hear your thoughts, and comments. ~~(Also I'd give my firstborn to anyone who'd draw WS!Bucky fucking Skinny!Steve with the muzzle on)~~


End file.
